


I Forgot

by edibleflowers



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 06:22:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the words really do need to be said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Forgot

**Author's Note:**

> I try to write something when I'm in a bad mood and it becomes an instant angst-fest. Figures. Had "Gone" on repeat in my head, which is probably what inspired this. However, HotSex!Justin makes an appearance, just for Dacey. Title from Sarah McLachlan.

"Y-you're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm -- I wish I was." Joey's face is bleaker than he'd ever seen it, pale, the normally laughing eyes edged with misery. "I wish I was," he repeats in a whisper.

Justin stares at Joey for long moments, stunned into disbelief. Finally, he ducks his head, scrapes a hand over the sensitive, fine hairs covering his head. "Why?" he says softly, staring at the floor.

"It's. It's just not working, Justin. I thought it would, but it's not."

"How? How is it not working?" Justin demands. "Did I do something? Did I not do something?"

"No, you were. You were fine," Joey says, and sounds almost like he means it, and Justin feels it like a freight train hitting him in the gut. He should have seen this coming, he thinks, in every worried glance and disappointed look. When he'd made promises and not kept them. When he'd turned down the just-the-two-of-them getaway -- for only two days in a bed-and-breakfast, yeah, but it would have been good, and he'd passed it up in favor of hanging out with Chris, and Joey had shrugged it off as if it was unimportant, but clearly it was--

"Fuck, Joey, I--"

"No, don't apologize." Joey looks down, sighing. "I'm. I should have said something."

"I can change," Justin says, and hates the desperate tone, knows it won't change Joey's mind. "Please."

Joey just shakes his head, his face hidden by the bill of the baseball cap he's wearing. The blue one, with the obscene gesture, index finger through circled fingers of another hand, with the legend 'Porn Star' on the back: Justin bought for him, laughing, at Spenser's or Hot Topic or somewhere. "No," he says again, and his voice is so faint that Justin wants to cry. "I'm sorry. I."

"Okay," Justin says miserably. "Okay."

* * *

The others find out soon after, and Chris is sympathetic and sweet, offering reassurances until Justin wants to hit him.

"I'm the one who fucked up," Justin tells Chris, angry and tired. Chris tries to argue, but Justin doesn't want to hear it; finally, Chris runs out of things to say and just sits with him, which is a little better.

Lance is more comforting, going out and drinking with him when he wants nothing more than to get wasted. "Give him some time," Lance suggests. Lance and Joey are close, and Justin knows that Lance has to have been hearing some of what's been going on. Justin appreciates that Joey hasn't demonized him to Lance, that Lance is still his friend too. "He needs some space."

"You think?" Justin's had a few beers by the time they get to talking about the break-up, and he's willing to accept any suggestion now. Justin never wanted to think that they'd be over. It was fucking fantastic when it started, and even after the initial heat had cooled a little, he thought he was falling more for Joey every day. Being without him now is more than he can take.

Every room in his house reminds him of Joey. They'd fucked on the couch, in the spare bedroom, on the kitchen floor. On one of the cheap loungers by the pool, until it broke and they collapsed in hysterical laughter, a pile of plastic tangled with flushed limbs and hopelessly bent aluminum. They'd tried the pool, but couldn't get any decent leverage; the jacuzzi was amazing, though, they'd discovered on more than one occasion.

Justin still remembered the exact moment when he fell for Joey. Joey flirted with everyone, all the time, and no one ever made a big deal of it, but then Joey had made a huge deal about the haircut Justin got at the beginning of the year. When he'd pretended to sob tragically over the loss of the "beautiful hair", acting half like a teeny and half like a lovestruck idiot, something in Justin's heart had melted.

He'd never acted around anyone else the way he did with Joey. He was shy with him. Fucking _shy_. He stumbled, confused his words, lost his cool. Joey excited him, unnerved him, and he loved it. He liked it, too, that he didn't have to be cool and suave and confident -- everything everyone else expected of him in a lover -- around Joey. He could just be himself.

He'd discovered new things about himself, too: that he liked being fucked as much as he liked fucking. That sometimes just cuddling was more powerful and made him feel even closer, more intimate, than sex. That there was this whole other aspect to a relationship aside from the physical, the romantic. When they settled down and watched television after rehearsal, or making a trip to the supermarket, or just out driving and talking; no matter what they did, he'd fucking loved it. Loved falling asleep in Joey's arms, Joey hot and curled to him.

And he'd totally fucking screwed it up.

* * *

Two days later, they have a group meeting and he has to look at Joey again. He doesn't know how he feels. Mad, disappointed, hurt, lost. Alone. More than anything, he wants Joey to say he was wrong and that they can be together again.

They talk about merchandising and advertising, about the stage costs and cutbacks. JC keeps tossing concerned looks Justin's way, but Justin doesn't acknowledge them. He contributes to the meeting, but his mind is on Joey, and Joey is silent, unobtrusive, a ghost. A shadow. Hardly there at all.

After the meeting, they head down to rehearsal. Justin puts a hand on Joey's arm as they're leaving the office. Joey pauses, looks at him, his eyes expressionless. They're a little red, though, and Justin feels it like a stab. "Hey," Justin says softly. "Can I talk to you?"

"I don't think it's a good idea," Joey says. He moves his arm out of Justin's grasp.

Justin awkwardly sticks his hands in his pockets. "I just want to talk," he says.

"I know, Jup," and the endearment is stone on Joey's lips. "I just. Not right now, okay?"

Not now. But maybe later. "Okay," Justin says, and tries not to feel hurt when Joey turns away and follows the others downstairs.

* * *

Justin turns his mind off when he dances. That works just fine, he doesn't have to think about anything. He's actually disappointed when rehearsal is over. It's only when Wade turns off the music and yells at them to get outta there that he realizes he's panting, sweat covering him, and his muscles ache with exertion.

He'd dance forever if it meant he didn't have to think about Joey, and that he'll be going home to an empty house.

On the way out, Chris cuffs him on the shoulder and tells him that they're going out to see _Swordfish_. Justin mumbles an agreement, stares after Joey's back as he retreats into the shower room.

"Naked Halle Berry," Chris says, bumping Justin. Justin sighs and nods.

"Forget it," Lance says, passing them. Chris shoots Lance a glare, and Justin wonders briefly about that, but doesn't really have much energy to care.

* * *

"You should come out with us," JC says, giving Joey an earnest look.

Joey shakes his head. "Don't feel like it. Anyway, I told Kelly I'd watch Bree tonight so she can go do something."

"Dude, you need to get out." JC's eyes are imploring. Joey hates it when JC does the puppy-dog eyes. It's even more endearing than usual, and JC's pretty endearing lately.

"Not tonight, all right." Joey stands up, done tying his shoes, and grabs his wallet. "I can't."

"Joey." JC stands up, too, leaning on the counter.

"Yeah, I know," Joey says. "You're worried. I know."

"Well, we are," JC says, a little defensively. "You're holing yourself up, man, you're shutting everyone out."

"I just need -- I just need to think a little." Joey's voice is soft. JC has to strain to hear him. It worries JC that Joey's shuttered himself away, that he's so quiet lately, that he won't go out. He wasn't like this when he broke up with Kelly -- JC remembers that then, Joey was relieved, lighter, happy.

"Okay," JC says, and touches Joey's shoulder, very gently. "But if you need to talk, let me know. All right?"

Joey ducks his head by way of answer, slips from the room lightly.

* * *

Justin calls Joey a couple of days later, tired of waiting, hurting, of being alone. Joey listens to him babble for a while, Justin rambling about whatever's on his mind: his mom's most recent visit, how his little brothers are doing, things like that. After a while, Justin slows down, and Joey knows that he's going to say something, so he braces himself for it.

"How are you doing?" Justin asks.

That wasn't so bad. "I'm getting by. How about you?"

"Okay. I guess. It's just." He heaves a breath. "I miss you."

"I miss you too." Joey sounds sincere; Justin takes hope from that.

"And. But. I want you to be happy. I mean. Even if it means we aren't together." Justin wonders why the words are so hard to get out. He's always been facile with language before. "So. uh. Yeah."

He waits, but Joey's silent on the other end of the phone. When the crackling gets to be too much, he says, "Joe?"

"Okay," Joey says. The quiver in his voice wrenches Justin's gut. "Okay. Thanks, man. I." He falls quiet again.

"Okay, so. Um, I'll see you at rehearsal, okay?"

"All right."

It's raining outside, which makes his house feel even emptier. Justin thinks about calling Chris, but decides not to. He's subjected Chris to enough of his misery already. Also, he remembers, there was something that he and Lance were going to go do. Justin had been mildly put out when they hadn't asked him, but then he was glad, because he didn't think he could summon the energy for whatever they had in mind.

If Joey was here, they might go outside and run around in the rain, maybe have sex in the grass, although he knows that's more romantic in theory than fact. Maybe they'd light a fire and curl up to watch a movie, and they'd have popcorn or something.

He stands by the big bay window in the living room and watches the rain. It's coming down really hard, but quiet; though he can hardly see to the other side of the street, he can't hear much of it at all. Drops spatter off the eaves, big blotches on the window, glistening in the murky half-light of early afternoon. A car horn sounds out in the street, lonely as he feels.

He has half a mind to go over to Joey's and beg forgiveness. But he's done that already, and he meant what he said. He does want Joey to be happy. He has to smile at that. _If you put someone else's happiness before your own, that means you love them, right?_

He wonders why he never told Joey that he loves him. Not in a way that wasn't the "I love you man"-brotherhood type of way, he'd told them all that hundreds of times. He hadn't thought he'd had to tell Joey that.

He looks up, closing his eyes, thinking. Maybe he should.

* * *

Joey's sitting on his porch, a beer half-forgotten in one hand, when the car pulls up his driveway. He recognizes Justin's Benz, but it doesn't really hit him, he thinks he might just be imagining it, until Justin steps out of the car. He's wet already, and the pouring rain soaks him instantly, but he doesn't seem to notice. As he comes up to the porch, Joey sees Justin's distraught eyes and wonders if he's been crying.

"I just," Justin heaves a breath. His eyelashes are clumped, spiky. "I just wanted to tell you that I love you. I'm sorry I never said it before. I don't know why I didn't, because I do. That's all. I -- I love you."

Joey doesn't know what to say. He sits there, the reaction processing slowly in him, and Justin's face falls, his head dropping. "I'm sorry," Justin says, "I'll go," and he turns to get back in his car.

That's what spurs Joey into motion, the realization that if Justin leaves now, he won't ever come back. Joey drops the beer, ignoring the thunk and guzzle of spilled alcohol, and moves quicker than he thought possible. Reaches for Justin, pulls him up, pulls him close.

"Don't go," Joey says, "please."

Justin is crying now, and it's not pretty, it blotches his beautiful complexion, but Joey kisses him fiercely, not caring. "I love you," Joey says, "I love you."

Justin puts his arms around Joey and presses his face to Joey's shoulder, and Joey holds Justin firm against him, whispering reassurances, promising he'll never do anything like this ever again. Around them, the rain gradually stops.

When Justin starts to shiver, Joey tugs him up onto the porch and inside the house. Justin follows, unresisting. Joey leads him into the master bathroom, strips him, wraps him in a towel. Justin's skin begins to tremble, instead, under Joey's hands, and soon he's pulling at Joey's shirt, saying, "off," and Joey chuckles and takes his own shirt off. Justin opens the towel and wraps them both in it, skin to bare skin. They're both still somewhat clammy -- Joey, now, more than Justin -- but body heat works quickly, and it doesn't hurt that Joey's got his hands moving up and down Justin's back, while Justin holds the towel tight around them and quivers delicately, his mouth open, wet and astonished.

His dick begins to throb against Joey's wet jeans. Justin drops the towel, tugs at the zipper embedded in wet denim. His fingers are shaking a bit, though; Joey pushes Justin's hands away, manages the button and zipper, and shoves the jeans off in a quick motion.

Justin pulls Joey into the bedroom, kissing him with a sweet desperation, a need that Joey's missed. Puts his hands in Joey's hair as he backs against the bed, and they fall over, laughing, Joey managing to brace himself so that he doesn't completely squash Justin. Justin loves the way Joey's body feels, heavy and warm, solid, surrounding him.

He puts his hands on either side of Joey's face and says, "I love you," wanting Joey to know he means it. Joey smiles down at him -- a soft, warm smile, a tender one that makes Justin's heart stop for a moment -- and murmurs, "I love you, too," and bends his head to kiss him. It's hot and hard, Joey's tongue pressing deep into Justin's mouth; Justin can feel Joey's thick erection pressed against his, and he wriggles a little, making inarticulate noises in the back of his throat, _want, need, give_.

Joey gets up a little so they can move up on the bed. He strokes Justin's back, a big palm skating from nape to buttocks in one smooth move, and Justin shudders when the fingertips press into the cleft of his ass, at the sensitive spot there. "yeah," Justin groans, an answer to the silent question. Joey presses a finger into Justin's mouth, letting Justin's tongue wet him, then slides the same finger down and in. Justin arches, breathy response loud in Joey's ear, while Joey patiently moves his finger inside Justin's body, slow even deep strokes in and out, into that hot center and out again.

"Ready?" Joey says, and when Justin nods, he stretches over to a shoebox on the floor and finds the condoms and KY, gets himself prepared too. Moves over Justin again, finds his place -- his position, where he belongs, so familiar -- and keeps his eyes focused on Justin's as he slides in. Loves the look on Justin's face, his eyes widening then shutting completely, his mouth stretching, soft fluttering noises coming out of him. He moves slowly, deliciously, wanting it slow, wanting it to last.

"That's it," he likes to say, and, "you want it faster?" He loves it when Justin nods, loves taking those slender arcs of hipbone between his hands and pushing harder, needing to use him, as turned on by the way Justin needs him.

When Justin's muscles clamp down on him at last, his come pooling on his stomach, Joey throws back his head and lets himself go, giving a guttural groan.

"fuck," Justin breathes, "yeah." Joey slips out, lays down for a moment, his head spinning. Justin reaches over and rests a hand in his hair, smiling, panting.

"We good?" he asks.

Joey nods, smiles back, unable to prevent himself from responding to Justin's warmth, the smile like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. "We are," he says, and means it.


End file.
